


Variations on a Theme by Iroshi Windwalker & Friends

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Series: TSMadLib
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of madlibs inspired, supervised, and compiled by Iroshi Windwalker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a Theme by Iroshi Windwalker & Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: the whole range.

## Variations on a Theme

by Iroshi Windwalker Various

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine. I just wrote the original snippet. The other guys came up with the weird words, honest! 

Technically, one of these is a death story. But the character gets resurrected, so everything's okay! The only other warning is to not read these while drinking fluids, or your monitor may get a bit damp. 

* * *

The original story 

Jim walked up the stairs to the loft, listening for the sound of Blair's heartbeat waiting for him. As he opened the door, he realized that he didn't smell dinner cooking. It was supposed to be Blair's turn, damn it! He was hungry. 

The sight that greeted him, though, as he walked in drove all thoughts of dinner out of his mind. The loft was lit with white candles and a faint vanilla scent hung in the air. 

Focusing his hearing, he found his lover's heart rate accelerating. He was waiting in the bedroom, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his keys in the basket and took off his coat quickly, then headed up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their gentle glow giving everything a radiant softness. And Blair on the bed, laid out naked on his back with his hair fanned across the pillow, looked like a golden angel. 

"Come here, James," Blair whispered. 

Jim stepped quickly to his side, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Blair sat up and pushed the shirt off his shoulders, caressing the firm muscles as he went. The rest of Jim's clothing was removed just as swiftly, and he found himself on the mattress, leaning over his partner's lithe form. 

They kissed, hands roaming everywhere, and Blair moaned. Jim tore his mouth from Blair's to suck and nibble on his neck, while Blair stroked first his tight abs, then lower to his firm penis. In minutes they were both gasping and Blair reached into the nightstand for the lube. After some quick but loving preparation, Jim felt himself sliding inside his lover. "Yessssss," he moaned as Blair thrust against him. 

They came together rhythmically, moving in sync, each thrust punctuated by frantic pants and groans, an "I love you," followed by, "God, don't stop!" The movements grew faster, harsher, until Blair felt the world explode around him. Jim, feeling Blair's ass contracting around him, came fiercely, crying Blair's name. 

* * *

The MadLib form: 

Jim walked up the <pl. noun> to the loft, <verb> for the sound of Blair's <noun> waiting for him. As he <verb past tense> the door, he realized that he didn't smell <noun> <verb>. It was supposed to be Blair's <noun>, <expletive>! He was <adjective>. 

The sight that <verb past tense> him, though, as he <verb past tense> in drove all thoughts of <noun> out of his <noun>. The <noun> was lit with <colour> candles and a faint <scent> scent hung in the <noun>. 

Focusing his <noun>, he found his <possessive noun> heart rate <verb -ing>. He was <verb -ing> in the <room>, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his <pl. noun> in the <noun> and took off his <noun> <adverb>, then <verb past tense> up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their <adjective> glow giving <plural noun> a <adjective> softness. And Blair on the <furniture>, laid out naked on his <body part> with his <body part> fanned across the <noun>, looked like a <adjective> <noun>. 

"<verb> here, James," Blair <verb past tense>. 

Jim stepped <adverb> to his <noun>, unbuttoning his <article of clothing> as he went. Blair sat up and <verb past tense> the <article of clothing> off his <body part, plural>, <verb -ing> the firm <body part, plural> as he went. The rest of Jim's <noun> was removed just as <adverb>, and he found himself on the <furniture>, leaning over his partner's lithe <noun>. 

They kissed, <body part, plural> roaming everywhere, and Blair <verb past tense>. Jim tore his <body part> from Blair's to <verb> and <verb> on his <body part>, while Blair <verb past tense> first his <adjective> abs, then lower to his <adjective> penis. In <amount of time> they were both <verb -ing> and Blair reached into the <furniture> for the lube. After some <adjective> but loving preparation, Jim felt himself <verb -ing> inside his lover. "<exclamation>" he moaned as Blair <verb past tense> against him. 

They came together <adverb>, <verb -ing> in sync, each thrust punctuated by <adjective> pants and <noun plural>, an "I <verb> you," followed by, "<exclamation>, don't stop!" The movements grew <adjective>, harsher, until Blair felt the <noun> <verb> around him. Jim, feeling Blair's <body part> contracting around him, <verb past tense> fiercely, <verb -ing> Blair's name. 

* * *

The results: 

Jim walked up the bottles to the loft, hitting for the sound of Blair's candle waiting for him. As he sucked the door, he realized that he didn't smell furby playing. It was supposed to be Blair's alarm clock, ARGH! He was soft. 

The sight that cooked him, though, as he stroked in drove all thoughts of kleenix out of his elbow macaroni. The candy bar wrapper was lit with puce candles and a faint Vanilla scent hung in the pea pod. 

Focusing his stun gun, he found his lollypop's heart rate striding. He was moaning in the attic, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his pink flamingos in the peanut and took off his video tape hurriedly, then slept up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their wrinkled glow giving cigarettes a blue softness. And Blair on the footstool, laid out naked on his nose with his lock of hair fanned across the rubber band, looked like a long rainstick. 

"Pet here, James," Blair died. 

Jim stepped stiffly to his step ladder, unbuttoning his condom as he went. Blair sat up and shouted the hair tie off his wrists, eating the firm heels as he went. The rest of Jim's popcorn kernel was removed just as quickly, and he found himself on the breakfront, leaning over his partner's lithe modem. 

They kissed, teeth roaming everywhere, and Blair brushed. Jim tore his forehead from Blair's to tie and slap on his adams apple, while Blair quit first his fuzzy abs, then lower to his hot penis. In a week they were both living and Blair reached into the kitchen sink for the lube. After some damp but loving preparation, Jim felt himself running inside his lover. " Jumping Jahosaphat," he moaned as Blair rained against him. 

They came together sadly, jumping in sync, each thrust punctuated by talkative pants and rain drops, an "I thunder you," followed by, "Ack!, don't stop!" The movements grew quiet, harsher, until Blair felt the M&M sleep around him. Jim, feeling Blair's toenail contracting around him, quit fiercely, dreaming Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the hats to the loft, dancing for the sound of Blair's rose waiting for him. As he touched the door, he realized that he didn't smell cloud hugging. It was supposed to be Blair's rainbow, Yes! He was elegant. 

The sight that laughed him, though, as he twirled in drove all thoughts of bird out of his brook. The unicorn was lit with mauve candles and a faint cinnamon scent hung in the silver. 

Focusing his star, he found his fish's heart rate smiling. He was singing in the kitchen, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his leaves in the wine and took off his sunshine joyfully, then held up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their beautiful glow giving hands a strong softness. And Blair on the counter, laid out naked on his nose with his finger fanned across the apple, looked like a powerful sky. 

"Run here, James," Blair touched. 

Jim stepped sweetly to his glass, unbuttoning his jumper as he went. Blair sat up and gathered the apron off his feet, jumping the firm ears as he went. The rest of Jim's grass was removed just as gently, and he found himself on the lounge, leaning over his partner's lithe rug. 

They kissed, teeth roaming everywhere, and Blair singed. Jim tore his head from Blair's to leap and sleep on his tongue, while Blair hoped first his small abs, then lower to his special penis. In millenia they were both crashing and Blair reached into the ottoman for the lube. After some purple but loving preparation, Jim felt himself knowing inside his lover. "Please!" he moaned as Blair played against him. 

They came together sadly, loving in sync, each thrust punctuated by soft pants and puppies, an "I cuddle you," followed by, "Goodness Gracious, don't stop!" The movements grew elegant, harsher, until Blair felt the book floor around him. Jim, feeling Blair's cheek contracting around him, stroke fiercely, feeling Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the boxers to the loft, dropping for the sound of Blair's chair waiting for him. As he smacked the door, he realized that he didn't smell box whirling. It was supposed to be Blair's spatula, Fuck me! He was brilliant. 

The sight that snorted him, though, as he flew in drove all thoughts of ottoman out of his desk. The book was lit with orange candles and a faint lavender scent hung in the laptop. 

Focusing his shirt, he found his brother's heart rate waving. He was watching in the kitchen, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his feathers in the quoit and took off his shoe brightly, then laid up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their precious glow giving spoons a soft softness. And Blair on the sofa, laid out naked on his toe with his butt fanned across the refrigerator, looked like a chilly quilt. 

"Shiver here, James," Blair fucked. 

Jim stepped sweetly to his pencil, unbuttoning his sock as he went. Blair sat up and sat the drawers off his fingers, giggling the firm asscheeks as he went. The rest of Jim's cushion was removed just as coldly, and he found himself on the bed, leaning over his partner's lithe bowl. 

They kissed, lips roaming everywhere, and Blair fell. Jim tore his navel from Blair's to fly and sing on his nose, while Blair ran first his pretty abs, then lower to his heavy penis. In six hours they were both sweating and Blair reached into the desk for the lube. After some prickly but loving preparation, Jim felt himself stroking inside his lover. "Wow," he moaned as Blair caressed against him. 

They came together gently, fucking in sync, each thrust punctuated by slow pants and dildoes, an "I pet you," followed by, " Hey! Don't stop!" The movements grew quiet, harsher, until Blair felt the pillow kiss around him. Jim, feeling Blair's mouth contracting around him, swatted fiercely, kissing Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the boots to the loft, sniffing for the sound of Blair's cart waiting for him. As he lofted the door, he realized that he didn't smell smell doing. It was supposed to be Blair's Crunch bar, pig snot! He was triangular. 

The sight that stashed him, though, as he angled in drove all thoughts of benchmark out of his cover. The dash was lit with purple candles and a faint jasmine scent hung in the bribe. 

Focusing his daffodil, he found his scum's heart rate tralalaing. He was fluffing in the kitchen, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his rubs in the counter and took off his tease huskily, then downed up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their red glow giving fish a dirty softness. And Blair on the futon, laid out naked on his knee with his eye fanned across the subject, looked like a medium dust. 

"Dust here, James," Blair rioted. 

Jim stepped merrily to his squeak, unbuttoning his overalls as he went. Blair sat up and masked the scarf off his toes, sucking the firm eyes as he went. 

The rest of Jim's rust was removed just as heartily, and he found himself on the sofa, leaning over his partner's lithe cheer. 

They kissed, legs roaming everywhere, and Blair martyred. Jim tore his stomach from Blair's to dance and chortle on his elbow, while Blair arrived first his snowy abs, then lower to his linked penis. In an hour they were both trusting and Blair reached into the couch for the lube. After some mellow but loving preparation, Jim felt himself doing inside his lover. "Cowabunga!" he moaned as Blair dove against him. 

They came together nastily, crying in sync, each thrust punctuated by run-down pants and socks, an "I dry you," followed by, "Hey! don't stop!" The movements grew sleepy, harsher, until Blair felt the bird crest around him. Jim, feeling Blair's rear contracting around him, ached fiercely, falling Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the saucers to the loft, kicking for the sound of Blair's pincushion waiting for him. As he tripped the door, he realized that he didn't smell floppy disk spinning. It was supposed to be Blair's daisy, bastard!! He was runny. 

The sight that tickled him, though, as he wept in drove all thoughts of doorstop out of his marble. The fender was lit with lavender candles and a faint vanilla scent hung in the eggcup. 

Focusing his tire, he found his book's heart rrate screwing. He was dancing in the kitchen, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his coasters in the headstone and took off his matchbox guiltily, then skated up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their soggy glow giving flowers a heartshaped softness. And Blair on the stool, laid out naked on his buttocks with his chin fanned across the teardrop, looked like a huge box. 

"Bounce here, James," Blair trembled. 

Jim stepped contentedly to his remote control, unbuttoning his tee shirt as he went. Blair sat up and tore the patchwork vest off his breasts, banging the firm toes as he went. The rest of Jim's ceiling was removed just as furrily, and he found himself on the couch, leaning over his partner's lithe statue. 

They kissed, nostrils roaming everywhere, and Blair sprinted. Jim tore his penis from Blair's to sing and work on his head, while Blair ranted first his hairy abs, then lower to his shiny penis. In four days they were both shivering and Blair reached into the beanbag chair for the lube. After some velvet-covered but loving preparation, Jim felt himself jumping inside his lover. "Oh sweet baby jesus, my ass is on fire!" he moaned as Blair shrieked against him. 

They came together drunkenly, falling in sync, each thrust punctuated by soft pants and buttons, an "I masturbate you," followed by, " Ooops! don't stop!" The movements grew throbbing, harsher, until Blair felt the organ insert around him. Jim, feeling Blair's mouth contracting around him, snored fiercely, loving Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the trees to the loft, staring for the sound of Blair's floor waiting for him. As he baked the door, he realized that he didn't smell gun dragging. It was supposed to be Blair's fog, Bugger! He was hairy. 

The sight that tied him, though, as he struck in drove all thoughts of feather out of his saddle. The rivet was lit with teal candles and a faint lavender scent hung in the leather. 

Focusing his lamp, he found his dagger's heart rate shining. He was dripping in the bathroom, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his gloves in the silk and took off his ice crazily, then flopped up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their solid glow giving orchids a dark softness. And Blair on the couch, laid out naked on his leg with his finger fanned across the chain, looked like a soft pillow. 

"Run here, James," Blair slid. 

Jim stepped coolly to his water, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Blair sat up and ripped the socks off his hands, clenching the firm fingers as he went. The rest of Jim's camcorder was removed just as hotly, and he found himself on the coffee table, leaning over his partner's lithe fig. 

They kissed, eyes roaming everywhere, and Blair shuddered. Jim tore his tongue from Blair's to jump and wiggle on his butt, while Blair wrang first his dusty abs, then lower to his weathered penis. In 2 hours they were both cutting and Blair reached into the chair for the lube. After some dry but loving preparation, Jim felt himself washing inside his lover. "Wow," he moaned as Blair shook against him. 

They came together softly, sighing in sync, each thrust punctuated by wet pants and blankets, an "I light you," followed by, "Oh, don't stop!" The movements grew hard, harsher, until Blair felt the doughnut pull around him. Jim, feeling Blair's tongue contracting around him, gasped fiercely, singing Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the spatulas to the loft, screwing for the sound of Blair's popsicle waiting for him. As he drove the door, he realized that he didn't smell drill typing. It was supposed to be Blair's fluff, fuck! He was quiet. 

The sight that jumped him, though, as he quickened in drove all thoughts of pool out of his flack. The tent was lit with blue candles and a faint cucumber scent hung in the hump. 

Focusing his quill, he found his Jim's heart rate flying. He was snapping in the dungeon, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his eagles in the whip and took off his batter silkily, then dropped up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their swirly glow giving hose an anthropromorphized softness. And Blair on the setee, laid out naked on his thigh with his nape fanned across the lube, looked like a tangy bowl. 

"Squirm here, James," Blair hiccuped. 

Jim stepped freshly to his juniper, unbuttoning his jock strap as he went. Blair sat up and flipped the t-shirt off his arms, shrieking the firm lips as he went. The rest of Jim's squirrel was removed just as down, and he found himself on the chaise lounge, leaning over his partner's lithe lava lamp. 

They kissed, toes roaming everywhere, and Blair moaned. Jim tore his super sternal notch from Blair's to trip and lance on his navel, while Blair minced first his super abs, then lower to his tipsy penis. In three hours they were both fleeing and Blair reached into the stool for the lube. After some brutish but loving preparation, Jim felt himself sparring inside his lover. "ARGH!" he moaned as Blair nicked against him. 

They came together inside, topping in sync, each thrust punctuated by fickle pants and fuzzy dice, an "I trump you," followed by, "JESUS, don't stop!" The movements grew verdant, harsher, until Blair felt the paper weight filch around him. Jim, feeling Blair's ear contracting around him, posed fiercely, yawning Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the toes to the loft, cringing for the sound of Blair's fingernail waiting for him. As he pulled the door, he realized that he didn't smell toy jumping. It was supposed to be Blair's apple, yeeooowsa! He was pink. 

The sight that flipped him, though, as he snerked in drove all thoughts of dog out of his herb. The sink was lit with florescent green candles and a faint english leather scent hung in the speaker. 

Focusing his bowl, he found his turkey's heart rate singing. He was choking in the basement, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his cats in the tape and took off his lid sweetly, then swung up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their dark glow giving tips a long softness. And Blair on the lamp, laid out naked on his tongue with his ear fanned across the steak, looked like a tangy laptop. 

"Eat here, James," Blair sneezed. 

Jim stepped quietly to his smoke, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Blair sat up and snuck the jeans off his cheeks, laughing the firm teeth as he went. The rest of Jim's knob was removed just as wetly, and he found himself on the coffee table, leaning over his partner's lithe light. 

They kissed, feet roaming everywhere, and Blair coughed. Jim tore his butt from Blair's to spin and flicker on his eye, while Blair tweaked first his long abs, then lower to his short penis. In 10 hours they were both climbing and Blair reached into the nightstand for the lube. After some slow but loving preparation, Jim felt himself crawling inside his lover. "DUDE!!!" he moaned as Blair looked against him. 

They came together mischievously, twinkling in sync, each thrust punctuated by blue pants and curls, an "I sex you," followed by, "WOWSA!!, don't stop!" The movements grew sweaty, harsher, until Blair felt the fork snicker around him. Jim, feeling Blair's cock contracting around him, drooped fiercely, sleeping Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the balls to the loft, bouncing for the sound of Blair's sweat waiting for him. As he flowed the door, he realized that he didn't smell shaft throbbing. It was supposed to be Blair's cheek, fuck! He was huge. 

The sight that gasped him, though, as he tensed in drove all thoughts of paddle out of his whip. The velvet was lit with black candles and a faint cantaloupe scent hung in the eye. 

Focusing his cuff, he found his man's heart rate curling. He was gasping in the dining room, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his plates in the spoon and took off his spatula loudly, then smacked up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their sticky glow giving potatoes a julienned softness. And Blair on the sidebar, laid out naked on his gall bladder with his coccyx fanned across the clip, looked like a shiny shoe. 

"Smother here, James," Blair hollered. 

Jim stepped soothingly to his wallpaper, unbuttoning his bustier as he went. Blair sat up and snapped the merrywidow off his elbows, sagging the firm tendons as he went. The rest of Jim's binder was removed just as richly, and he found himself on the bureau, leaning over his partner's lithe CD. 

They kissed, nails roaming everywhere, and Blair broke. Jim tore his ribs from Blair's to thrust and compress on his neck, while Blair jumped first his furry abs, then lower to his smooth penis. In eons they were both quivering and Blair reached into the divan for the lube. After some speckled but loving preparation, Jim felt himself tensing inside his lover. "Christ!" he moaned as Blair heaved against him. 

They came together frantically, thrashing in sync, each thrust punctuated by creamy pants and lips, an "I shove you," followed by, "Damn!, don't stop!" The movements grew sweaty, harsher, until Blair felt the sheet stick around him. Jim, feeling Blair's spine contracting around him, whimpered fiercely, sighing Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the fuses to the loft, struggling for the sound of Blair's dickey waiting for him. As he flinched the door, he realized that he didn't smell zephyr tilting. It was supposed to be Blair's vantage, bloody hell! He was sociable. 

The sight that discarded him, though, as he bequeathed in drove all thoughts of instant out of his peacock. The orbit was lit with silver candles and a faint menthol scent hung in the thirst. 

Focusing his pursuit, he found his decision's heart rate furbishing. He was relaxing in the den, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his passages in the jack and took off his datum evenhandedly, then bartering up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their hermetical glow giving creations a robust softness. And Blair on the desk, laid out naked on his finger with his lip fanned across the friableness, looked like a recuperative facade. 

"Facilitate here, James," Blair browsed. 

Jim stepped slyly to his mess, unbuttoning his sock as he went. Blair sat up and kept the jacket off his eyes, tousling the firm toes as he went. The rest of Jim's ray was removed just as realistically, and he found himself on the chair, leaning over his partner's lithe felly. 

They kissed, fingers roaming everywhere, and Blair thrashed. Jim tore his penis from Blair's to parry and spin on his thigh, while Blair urged first his prior abs, then lower to his gallant penis. In a second they were both jotting and Blair reached into the ottoman for the lube. After some concise but loving preparation, Jim felt himself comparing inside his lover. "Aw hell," he moaned as Blair anticipated against him. 

They came together somehow, spellbinding in sync, each thrust punctuated by unique pants and reefs, an "I insinuate you," followed by, "What, don't stop!" The movements grew premature, harsher, until Blair felt the predicate rue around him. Jim, feeling Blair's elbow contracting around him, jutted fiercely, yearning Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the cookies to the loft, flying for the sound of Blair's spatula waiting for him. As he hopped the door, he realized that he didn't smell comb watching. It was supposed to be Blair's nail polish, shit! He was sultry. 

The sight that jumped him, though, as he sat in drove all thoughts of mouse out of his bed. The spoon was lit with purple candles and a faint cinnamon scent hung in the ribbon. 

Focusing his lamp, he found his dog's heart rate humping. He was leaping in the bedroom, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his puppies in the hat and took off his balloon softly, then inquired up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their harsh glow giving books a quick softness. And Blair on the sofa, laid out naked on his toe with his armpit fanned across the keyboard, looked like a cold box. 

"Ponder here, James," Blair slept. 

Jim stepped easily to his blanket, unbuttoning his socks as he went. Blair sat up and bit the belt off his teeth, rowing the firm eyes as he went. The rest of Jim's board was removed just as closely, and he found himself on the desk, leaning over his partner's lithe mirror. 

They kissed, fingers roaming everywhere, and Blair covered. Jim tore his nose from Blair's to chew and fling on his shoulder, while Blair shut first his slimy abs, then lower to his soft penis. In two years they were both blushing and Blair reached into the chair for the lube. After some dead but loving preparation, Jim felt himself flipping inside his lover. "Ewwwwwww!" he moaned as Blair thumped against him. 

They came together sloppily, licking in sync, each thrust punctuated by short pants and napkins, an "I bring you," followed by, "Ack! don't stop!" The movements grew shiny, harsher, until Blair felt the pen could around him. Jim, feeling Blair's ear contracting around him, lived fiercely, sleeping Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the knees to the loft, fucking for the sound of Blair's sword waiting for him. As he killed the door, he realized that he didn't smell dagger murdering. It was supposed to be Blair's diary, by the balls of Satan! He was idiotic. 

The sight that died him, though, as he ran in drove all thoughts of quarterstaff out of his broadsword. The brace was lit with red candles and a faint bitter almond scent hung in the CD. 

Focusing his computer, he found his sister's heart rate deoderizing. He was sleeping in the salle, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his revolvers in the mouse and took off his calendar quickly, then fought up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their silky glow giving hard drives a smooth softness. And Blair on the lunge rack, laid out naked on his liver with his spleen fanned across the hair band, looked like a tight lamp. 

"Light here, James," Blair passed. 

Jim stepped softly to his alarm clock, unbuttoning his bra as he went. Blair sat up and whipped the jock strap off his asses, cleaning the firm hearts as he went. The rest of Jim's garbage can was removed just as tightly, and he found himself on the desk, leaning over his partner's lithe battery. 

They kissed, toenails roaming everywhere, and Blair scratched. Jim tore his breast from Blair's to rub and smooth on his rib, while Blair put first his silver abs, then lower to his blue penis. In a millisecond they were both coming and Blair reached into the armoire for the lube. After some green but loving preparation, Jim felt himself wearing inside his lover. "Holy dog shit batman," he moaned as Blair yelled against him. 

They came together roughly, hurting in sync, each thrust punctuated by pink pants and rings, an "I place you," followed by, "Network Presidents! Don't stop!" The movements grew heavy, harsher, until Blair felt the wrist brace brush around him. Jim, feeling Blair's sternum contracting around him, spanked fiercely, walking Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the feet to the loft, talking for the sound of Blair's goat waiting for him. As he shrieked the door, he realized that he didn't smell apple darning. It was supposed to be Blair's hat, stupid english kenighet!!! He was humble. 

The sight that cleaned him, though, as he spitted in drove all thoughts of book out of his CD. The head was lit with blue candles and a faint lavender scent hung in the guitar. 

Focusing his printer, he found his bed's heart rate framing. He was sleeping in the conservatory, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his bags in the spoon and took off his cookie grumpily, then shot up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their sweet glow giving dice a funny softness. And Blair on the poof, laid out naked on his hand with his toenail fanned across the cape, looked like a tall mousepad. 

"Run here, James," Blair ate. 

Jim stepped unimpeachably to his saxophone, unbuttoning his sock as he went. Blair sat up and kicked the headband off his teeth, jumping the firm hearts as he went. The rest of Jim's spray was removed just as strongly, and he found himself on the sofa, leaning over his partner's lithe towel. 

They kissed, hairs roaming everywhere, and Blair broke. Jim tore his kneecap from Blair's to cook and smite on his nose, while Blair blended first his great abs, then lower to his green penis. In millennia they were both dueling and Blair reached into the chair for the lube. After some unusual but loving preparation, Jim felt himself rolling inside his lover. "HEY!" he moaned as Blair heated against him. 

They came together strangely, frolicking in sync, each thrust punctuated by soft pants and sheep, an "I listen you," followed by, "Damn! Don't stop!" The movements grew real, harsher, until Blair felt the tile wear around him. Jim, feeling Blair's kidney contracting around him, slid fiercely, grinning Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the rabbits to the loft, bouncing for the sound of Blair's hat waiting for him. As he danced the door, he realized that he didn't smell tightening keyring. It was supposed to be Blair's shoe, bollox! He was snotty. 

The sight that fell him, though, as he knocked in drove all thoughts of snow out of his bottle. The ice cream was lit with puce candles and a faint smokey bacon scent hung in the light bulb. 

Focusing his toilet, he found his Schwartzenegger heart rate dieting. He was flying in the basement, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his apples in the teddy bear and took off his mug quickly, then cracked up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their hot glow giving clocks a hairy softness. And Blair on the credenza, laid out naked on his ankles with his thighs fanned across the lipstick, looked like a steal cloud. 

"Wrap here, James," Blair fell. 

Jim stepped slowly to his container, unbuttoning his wrist band as he went. Blair sat up and pealed the ear cuff off his pectorals, throbbing the firm shoulder blades as he went. The rest of Jim's Lime Cordial was removed just as delicately, and he found himself on the entertainment unit, leaning over his partner's lithe box. 

They kissed, lips roaming everywhere, and Blair typed. Jim tore his navel from Blair's to think and brush on his elbow, while Blair guessed first his intelligent abs, then lower to his yummy penis. In a second they were both marching and Blair reached into the sink for the lube. After some unique but loving preparation, Jim felt himself flushing inside his lover. "By the horny three toad sloth of greater epsilon nine!" he moaned as Blair drove against him. 

They came together briskly, rubbing in sync, each thrust punctuated by loud pants and prats, an "I kiss you," followed by, "Gosh! Don't stop!" The movements grew red, harsher, until Blair felt the air plane look around him. Jim, feeling Blair's hand contracting around him, grunted fiercely, heaving Blair's name. 

* * *

Jim walked up the fish to the loft, playing for the sound of Blair's puppy waiting for him. As he dropped the door, he realized that he didn't smell truck fighting. It was supposed to be Blair's dollar, fuck! He was handsome. 

The sight that discussed him, though, as he sucked in drove all thoughts of thing out of his house. The tree was lit with blue candles and a faint lavender scent hung in the computer. 

Focusing his song, he found his Jim's heart rate walking. He was schmoozing in the bathroom, upstairs. 

Jim dropped his nuts in the duck and took off his ass guiltily, then screwed up the stairs. 

More candles were everywhere, their punchy glow giving jokes a soft softness. And Blair on the couch, laid out naked on his cock with his mouth fanned across the book, looked like a hefty table. 

"Hump here, James," Blair relaxed. 

Jim stepped stealthily to his chair, unbuttoning his boxers as he went. Blair sat up and climaxed the t-shirt off his balls, talking the firm arms as he went. The rest of Jim's hammer was removed just as sexily, and he found himself on the papasan chair, leaning over his partner's lithe window. 

They kissed, legs roaming everywhere, and Blair collapsed. Jim tore his ass from Blair's to eat and burp on his finger, while Blair kissed first his lusty abs, then lower to his silly penis. In 24 minutes and 17 seconds they were both coming and Blair reached into the hammock for the lube. After some muscular but loving preparation, Jim felt himself sighing inside his lover. "Good golly, Miss Molly!" he moaned as Blair fell against him. 

They came together squishily, partying in sync, each thrust punctuated by tall pants and videotapes, an "I believe you," followed by, "Yes! Yes! Yes, don't stop!" The movements grew hot, harsher, until Blair felt the strong worry around him. Jim, feeling Blair's face contracting around him, melted fiercely, kissing Blair's name. 

* * *

End Variations on a Theme.


End file.
